this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on December 18, 2007.
SOMETIMES I THINK THERE ARE ONLY TWO DEGREES OF separation between everyone in Manila. When I’d meet someone new, if I tried hard enough, we’d be able to trace some obscure connection between the two of us: we could have gone to the same school, grown up a few blocks from one another, have parents that hail from the same province, or just find that we were somehow related to one another. (Of course, this all could also just be a testament to the relative narrowness of my world.)
In any case, having grown up, studied and worked in Manila, I find I’ve been surrounded by pretty much the same group of people all my life. I went to university with people I knew in high school, and ended up working with people that graduated from the same undergraduate course that I did. In a city where everyone knows everyone, I have my parents trying to figure out if they know the parents of any new friends I make, business contacts saying they’ve worked with my relatives, new friends telling me they know one or more of my six siblings.
I decided to go to graduate school in the United States a few months ago, and welcomed the change of knowing no one, and being able to choose what I revealed about myself to people. There were no pre-conceived notions about me because of where I went to school, or where I happened to live.
So naturally there’s a heightened self-awareness because I’m constantly being asked to redefine myself over and over as I continue to meet hundreds of my classmates. Where are you from? What line of work were you in before? Why did you go to graduate school? I have the misfortune of speaking English with an accent that many just assume is American (I blame this on too much “Sesame Street,” “Miami Vice” and “Baywatch” growing up). Thus, I am mistaken for an American for a few minutes before they ask me where I’m from and I launch into a mini-geography lesson of where the Philippines can be found on a world map.
In response to other typical “getting to know you” questions, there are times I just give a straight-up reply, telling them about my former job and employer, alongside a quick blurb on my short and long-term career goals. And there are times I still make a joke about being a foreign provincial bumpkin of sorts, saying that I was “fresh off the boat” because I had come from Manila immediately before grad school.
Since I’ve moved to the US, I’ve discovered a wonderful sense of silence that I don’t get in Manila. Pico Iyer has written a gorgeous essay on the eloquent sounds of silence where he says, “Silence is something more than just a pause; it is that enchanted place where space is cleared and time is stayed and the horizon itself expands.” I find that being alone with my thoughts can sometimes be better company than casual acquaintances.
I love the anonymity of being a stranger, and of being able to go out and read the newspaper or a book alone, without the common Manila-esque thought that I would probably bump into someone I knew. The Filipino Connection is too strong to be completely avoided though, and even here in Philadelphia, I once found myself on a random Sunday dimsum brunch in Chinatown with: two former professors who ended up married to one another, someone I knew from a Church group in Manila, and a number of undergraduate students who kept on referring to me as the “ate” of my younger siblings they knew.
As time passes, the new people I’ve met have started to find out more about me (and me about them) as I disclose bits and bobs about myself. I talk about my love for scuba diving, and how I’ve been diving at least once a month for the last four years. I talk about how even during midterm week, when I was getting four hours of sleep a day, I’d make time to read a few pages of Murakami’s “Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman,” so that I could take a break from Managerial Economics. I talk about why “In the Mood for Love” is one of my favorite films of all time, and why I felt like watching “Lust, Caution” on a busy Sunday between group meetings, problem sets, and 10-page case analyses.
I talk about how I like to make 12-hour playlists for my long stretches of studying with everyone from The Beatles to Nina Simone to The Shins to Amy Winehouse. I talk about how I used to cook big-group dinners all the time, and how it’s been a strange adjustment to cook for one person.
Now these things, my family and friends from Manila already know about me. With regard to best friends I’ve known for over 15 years, we’re so attuned to one another that we can practically read each others’ minds. And in my family, where we’ve known each other all our lives, we have no trouble understanding obscure comments and strange moods. Is there a loneliness attached to being a stranger and having to constantly explain myself? Not at all.
As I mentioned, there’s a great support system here of more than enough Filipinos to swap cooking, shopping and general survival tips with, and more than enough academic work to keep me busy. In the meantime, I continue to enjoy the daily quiet of my grad-school life. But, of course, I’m also looking forward to the holidays, when for a few weeks I’ll be going back to the cacophony of my Manila life, where everybody knows my name.
